O Sapientia - a sonnet by Malcolm Guite

I cannot think unless I have been thought,

Nor can I speak unless I have been spoken.

I cannot teach except as I am taught,

Or break the bread except as I am broken.

O Mind behind the mind through which I seek,

O Light within the light by which I see,

O Word beneath the words with which I speak,

O founding, unfound Wisdom, finding me,

O sounding Song whose depth is sounding me,

O Memory of time, reminding me,

My Ground of Being, always grounding me,

My Maker’s Bounding Line, defining me,

Come, hidden Wisdom, come with all you bring,

Come to me now, disguised as everything.

As the sun sets on the first day of 2015...

It Could Be...

It could be as simple
as using a good paring knife
and singing, as you peel the apple

from top to bottom, then kissing
your grandson's nose as you drop
the unbroken peel on his head.

It could be checking the herbs
in the outdoor pots, noticing
the basil needs water.

It could be wrapping yourself
in a prayer shawl, fingering your beads,
studying the Bible -- all the better

to empty the space, prepare the ground
for the silence which offers answers
to questions which never cease.

It could be putting on your hat,
your boots and your gloves
and shoveling Mrs. Cohen's walkway

before you drive her to the doctor.
You wish she would talk less,
but you tuck your impatience

into the pocket of your coat,
and it escapes only once.
It could be as simple as blessing

the newspaper as you open it,
praying for the spoiled and lost ones
on all corners of the earth.

It could be as simple as knowing
that prayer is also love-in-action
or even hate in non-action,

that there is only one you
in the entire universe,
that your spark-raising cannot be done
by anyone else, not even by God.
~~Jennifer (Jinks) Hoffmann 

CHRISTMAS EVE

So many memories of Christmas Eve...Roger proposed to me right before midnight mass 40 years ago, and then we went in to St Mary's where love incarnate took on new meaning for us both, so eager to center our life on the Way of Christ...and I am remembering years later when Jessica, Conor and Kate surprised us with their own tender and humorous telling of the birth of Jesus that so blessed us as parents...and tonight Kyla will read the Prophet Isaiah, ending with the line "The love of our God will make this happen" and I am again and still learning this Way of Christ...

Blessed Are You Who Bear the Light

Blessed are you

who bear the light

in unbearable times,

who testify

to its endurance

amid the unendurable,

who bear witness

to its persistence

when everything seems

in shadow

and grief.

Blessed are you

in whom

the light lives,

in whom

the brightness blazes—

your heart

a chapel,

an altar where

in the deepest night

can be seen

the fire that

shines forth in you

in unaccountable faith

in stubborn hope

in love that illumines

every broken thing

it finds.

– Jan Richardson

Lessons in Light

So, it's been a rough six months (you may have noticed I have been mostly absent from these pages) with losses and heartache of all kinds that could only be held, accompanied.  We have clung to one another and to God, walked, as trusting as we could, helping each other over the rough spots, and carried our hope bundled with a bit of thread...
Now it is Christmas.  My favorite feast - my season of hope.
He surprised us with lights to welcome us home, the whole place a joyful welcome sign.
A week later it was our turn.
We wanted to surprise him with the tree, lit in the window.
But when I plugged it in, only half the branches lit.
In my heart I sighed "not this, not this year" and left the room for a Christmas box thinking we'd have to leave the tree and wait for his help.
As I returned Kyla, in child wonder, exclaimed "Mom, the lights are all on!"
My first thought was to the heavens - Thank you,
When she said to me "Sometimes the Light just moves a little slow!"
Now it is Christmas.  My favorite feast - my season of hope.

Oh Come Oh Come Emmanuel

Only after I'd written this did I realize 

it is Santa Lucia - the Feast of Lights!  I remember our girls wearing a crown of candles on their head with a mix of delight and terror!  

May you all be crowned with Light.  

God-is-with-us

It's been quiet here online,

though raucous enough in my life through advent’s waiting

the loss of my husband’s sister, my friend, who was also mother and daughter-loss

the rough road of one of our own who is trying with all she’s got to change her life

preparing for my moms visit (a rare and difficult thing for her to do, given her health, but she is vigorous in spirit)

family

hope and ache, loss and gain all tossed into December’s mulled offerings

and then comes the feast

Incarnation...God with skin, love enfleshed

I feel it in the happy chaos of child-Angels plucking feathers from their wings and robe-clad Shepherds making haste to greet the Christ child in the manger at Christmas Mass

Feel it as Lucas wraps his arms around my neck and I can still feel him so

As Conor kisses my forehead and I am so small beside him with his arm wrapped around me, Merry Christmas mom

And Leslie speaks her thanks and I feel her breath carry tenderness to my ear, her smile, delight to my eyes

When Kate calls, anxious about many things while I hear her own babies in the background, and though apart, a grown child’s need and a mother’s reassurance bridge the gap

And Jessica catches me in the pantry, after taking the girls on 'the best day ever!', confiding her renewed perspective; later we linger while the house sleeps and I am grateful for this closeness

Watching Henry laughing at the glad welcome he receives, the family embrace is everywhere

With my Mom close by, watching me in the kitchen, later bragging about her girl, we sit and I hold her crooked hand

Catching Roger’s eyes across the room, conspiracy of grace, again and again he sees, every petal reads ‘he loves me’

With Kyla and her scooting close, childhoods joys

The door swings wide, again and again as family arrives.

We join hands to pray, feast on food and wine

there are quiet chats in corners, the grandmothers commiserate

while games & laughter drift in on the air

We gather crowded close to open our gifts

All advent I heard the whisper and as I sit back and watch, I hear it again under the playful exchange...

I am not coming...I am here

On the 5th Day of Christmas...

This morning I read about Simeon...
A good man
One who lived in prayerful expectancy
And the Holy Spirit was on him
Simeon took him [Jesus] into his arms and blessed God

So I am sitting here...in the imaginative prayer of St. Ignatius,
feeling the weight of the Christ child in my arms, close and warm.
I am dumbfounded...
no words form...
just that weight and warmth
and the lump in my throat.
I am deeply sunk in the moment
when she pads out
"I was calling you"
and crawls into my lap,
heavy and warm
and I hold on
in silence
as long as I possibly can...

feeling the weight of the Christ child in my arms, close and warm.
I am dumbfounded...

Some Children see Him lily white,
the Baby Jesus born this night.
Some Children see Him lily white,
with tresses soft and fair.
Some Children see Him bronzed and brown,
the Lord of heav’n to earth some down;
Some Children see Him bronzed and brown,
with dark and heavy hair.
Some Children see Him almond eyed,
this Saviour whom we kneel beside,
Some Children see him almond eyed,
with skin of yellow hue.
Some Children see him dark as they,
sweet Mary’s Son to whom we pray;
Some Children see Him dark as they,
and ah! They love Him too!
The Children in each different place
will see the Baby Jesus’ face
Like theirs, but bright with heav’nly grace,
and filled with holy light.
O lay aside each earthly thing,
and with thy heart as offering,
Come worship now the Infant King,
’tis love that’s born tonight!

I love these old vintage prints

For some reason I have always loved this - my swedish grandmother... the beauty of winter...
the mystery and wondrous possibility of Christmas! 

The goodness of St Nicholas

If we could but see how the world proclaims His glory!

child wonder

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed...
that manger was rough!

The great give-away

Let me not wrap,

stack,

box,

bag,

tie,

tag,

bundle,

seal,

keep Christmas.

Christmas kept is liable to mold.

Let me give Christmas away,

unwrapped,

by exuberant armfuls.

Let me share,

dance,

live Christmas unpretentiously,

merrily,

responsibly with overflowing hands,

tireless steps

and sparkling eyes.

(from an old copy of the Upper Room)